Nico & Co
by BelowTheText
Summary: Nico di Angelo has no idea what to think of this weird trio who stalks the night carrying swords and Greek Fire on their belts. They see ghosts and battle them, trying to steal their Source. They seem deadly yet all they do is have tea and biscuits all morning. And they definitely don't seem ordinary and not quite mortal either. But the thing.. [Transferred to Wattpad!]


**Author's Note**

**This was just something I made up because I was so frustrated about the ending of TWS. But I have an idea for a fluffy one-shot and I will work on that next hehehe :)**

**Proceed at your own risk: I think I was half delirious when I wrote this hahaha**

**((And I don't plan on continuing it either lol))**

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><p>Nico &amp; Co.<p>

Nico di Angelo knew he should've taken the sub.

Well, for one thing, he could've gotten to camp a lot faster. And if it weren't for the winter solstice – which made his powers swell uncomfortably in a short amount of time – he might've gotten there without a hitch.

Such as it is, with luck like Nico's, he managed to shadow travel all the way to England. And not _New _England, mind you. It was the good-ol' fashioned tea-and-biscuits, London England.

His vision shifted from the sparkling Manhattan night skyline to a glittering dawn panorama of the Thames River. The sky was tinged pink with the opportunity of the day. The young demigod could see the beautiful gold Big Ben and the huge London Eye –all of which would've been nice and lovely if not for the fact that he was hurling towards the water at speeds that would've made Jason cry for his father (And he probably would, before flying off with the winds bending at his will.)

Nico flapped his arms in a desperate attempt to stay airborne, trying not to scream curses at the gods in the process –that is, until he remembered that he could still shadow travel with what little darkness was left. His instincts took over and in a dark flash he vanished.

On his second go at it, he managed to scare off a fat posh lady walking her tiny Chihuahua dog. Nico appeared about two feet over head and landed right on her feathery over-sized hat. He barely escaped with his limbs in tact; old ladies' purses were not something you messed around with.

His final try landed him in a situation he would rather not remember and he decidedly would've picked the old lady and the rat-dog over this.

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><p>Three shadow travels in less than two hours wasn't unheard of for children of Hades. And throughout the course of history, many incidents have been with these children found at the end of pointy objects. Simply speaking, Nico has seen the ends of more than three wicked looking toothpicks before. (Being a son of Hades' doesn't get you very far in the popularity chart) So these strange looking kids holding their puny little swords didn't scare him.<p>

_Swords_ didn't seem to cut it, though. It seemed much too toothpick-like to be a proper sword. But Nico couldn't name it and so _sword_ would have to do. Besides, he sensed something bigger in this house; something much more terrifying.

Nico locked eyes with the boy directly in front of him. He wore an expression of a calm and cool leader, as if dealing with kids suddenly popping in on his breakfast was something he dealt with everyday.

To the boy's right, was a girl who glared at Nico looking considerably grumpy and irritated. Still her grip on her sword was firm and her eyes told Nico she was ready to rip him apart.

Finally, a plump, bored looking boy pushed his round glasses up his nose which vaguely reminded Nico of a cross between Mr. D and that Harry Potter kid Piper talked to him about. The idea was enough to make him laugh –if he wasn't so sleepy.

Nico tried to stifle a yawn even as he watched the fat boy trying to look mildly interested in the strange kid who seemingly appeared out of thin air.

Nico was pretty sure that he was still in London. And the swelling power he had minutes before was slowly leaving him. He could sense the sun returning and the night disappearing.

Stuck in a strange land with strange kids holding pointy sticks –_great_. But the people weren't the strangest thing in the house. He bumped the wall he was up against and realized it wasn't a wall at all. The door swung outwards and he tumbled into what looked like a living room.

"What the hell…" Nico whispered, fascinated with the strange artifacts around the room and terrified of the feeling of dread attached to it at the strange time.

The three took measured steps towards him. The tallest boy in the middle spoke first, "Oh, American! Interesting."

"I could bloody hell care less if he was from the Christmas Islands, I want him out of our house. _Now_." The girl growled. Despite himself, Nico felt a vein twitch; who was this girl anyway.

"Oh come now, Luce. Don't be such a spoil sport." The fat boy nudged the girl with the butt of his sword. "Don't touch me, George." The girl growled again, looking more like a feral cat than a teenage girl.

Nico didn't relax when the points of their swords lowered; and he certainly didn't relax when he felt a force in the corner of the room stirring.

"We should be more hospitable to our guests," The tall boy leaned over and put an arm around the girl's neck, grinning a full megawatt smile. Nico groaned inwardly; dealing with _Will's_ grin made it feel like Nico was always looking at the sun, this kid made him look like the fiery ball of gas itself. The girl Nico assumed was Luce (or Luc- _y_) turned away, not in the mood for the boy's charming smile.

Whoa –hold on. _Charming?_ Nope. Dashing? Maybe. But _charming?_ Definitely not. Besides, British people weren't his type.

A scrape of metal meeting metal told Nico that the boy had sheathed his sword. Two more choruses followed.

"Now that's more I like it." The boy still grinning pleasantly leaned down to offer Nico a hand. Nico bluntly refused and quickly scrambled to pull himself up.

"You'll have to excuse Lucy," The boy said. "She can be a terrible grouch if she hasn't got much sleep." Lucy scowled at the boy, who didn't seem to mind and only chuckled mellowly.

"And we've just returned from a rather nasty run-in with a cluster of Poltergeists. We were just about to have breakfast." The boy continued.

What? Poltergeists? As in the _ghost_ poltergeists? Nico's head was spinning.

"And yesterday's lunch and yesterday's dinner." The plump boy called George said from the living room's sofa. The boy contemplated until he finally gave a quick nod, "Oh yes, I forgot."

Lucy shook her head, "That's it, I'm eating without either of you." And with that she stormed off towards the kitchen.

"Don't worry about her," The boy smiled apologetically (and that worried Nico), "Even if you sort of landed on her chocolate flapjacks." As if on cue, Lucy's scream filled the whole house. Nico ducked just in time to see a fancy blue china plate sailing towards him.

The plate crashed behind him, finding a mark other than his face. George groaned, "Lucy! That was one of the last fine china plates we had!"

Her eyes were livid and position tense. And suddenly, her puny little swordstick didn't look so puny to Nico. "Now, Lucy." The dashing boy warned dangerously. Every fiber in Nico's body told him to go to sleep; yet his demigod instincts kicked in, yelling at him to get up and fight. He summoned his Stygian iron sword and held it in front of him.

Despite pulling the sword from thin air, the boy beside Nico groaned. "No. Not you too."

Normally, the presence of the dark underworld iron would make even mortals run in fear. But Lucy didn't back down. And Nico later found that he'd much rather battle an angry Minotaur.

She charged with her thin sword, which Nico blocked with surprising difficulty. The demigod parried but Lucy jumped back, blocking the counterattack swiftly. Her thrusts were solid and hard for someone who didn't get a full meal in the last twenty-four hours.

Nico gritted his teeth and held his own sword firmly. _Damn, this girl is good._

Nico could dimly hear George advising him on how to best disarm Lucy, pointing out her flaws and kinks in her stance. Lucy yelled at him to shut up. The other boy tried wrestling for Lucy's sword.

The little kid in him grunted in frustration; what was that sword called? He's never seen one at any of the camps. The memory called to him, tugging at the edge of his consciousness.

"Lucy, drop your bloody rapier _now_!"

Oh right, _rapier._ That was what it was called. With a triumphant grin, he yawned and fell face-first into the carpeted floor.

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><p>Before the kid dropped down on my breakfast I was having a brilliant day.<p>

Oh yes. We arrived from Scotland Yard stiff and sore all over, lugging our iron chains and rapiers all the way (No cabs! Can you believe that?). Barnes had brought us in after we wrapped up a ghastly case against Type Two Poltergeists who just would _not_ back down. He wanted to question us and we ended up staying until the sun came up.

The day _before,_ I was sweeping the streets, trying to get some information out of a couple of crazed homeless men who reportedly saw the Poltergeists active the previous nights. Ever tried talking to a mad old geezer on the streets who smelled as if he hasn't taken a bath since the beginning of the Problem? Word of advice: Just don't.

I was promised a nice hot bath and the whole day off to catch up with some sleep and three full meals to go with it. I was sticky, tired, and filled with ectoplasm-caused holes all over my new skirt. And when the idiot in a black aviator jacket dropped in… Well, safe to say I wasn't in the best of moods.

My idea was to tie him up but Lockwood being the annoyingly gentleman-like self, voted we keep him in the sitting room while we ate our breakfast.

After a good hearty breakfast, I dumped a bucket of cold water to wake our sleeping beauty and immediately felt better.

Here he sat in a borrowed coat of Lockwood's and a pair of ill-fitting jeans of George's. A nice steaming plate of eggs and bacon waited in front of him. His eyes didn't leave us as he devoured his toast. The tea and biscuits remained untouched.

"I won't be here for long, I'll be out of your hair by nightfall." The boy finally said after we've introduced ourselves. He didn't care to mention his name.

George made a clicking sound with his tongue, "Sorry, kiddo –Can I call you kiddo? – " "No." "Well kiddo, no can do."

I crossed my arms and asked, "Why would you want to go out at night, of all the times of the day?"

The unnamed boy looked at me as if I were an alien from a different planet. "Don't you go out at night?"

I wavered under his intense gaze, "Well yeah… But,"

The boy shrugged as if that was the end of it, "So I don't see why I can't go out as well." And he continued chewing his toast. I sat there fuming. For some reason, this kid annoyed me almost as much as George does.

George asked a question of his own, "Are you by any chance part of the Night Watch?"

The boy shrugged his shoulders again in that maddening way that he does, "What the hell is a Night Watch?"

Lockwood leaned forward, his fingers clasped together in front of him. "What I'd like to know is how you managed to enter our house. You're not by any chance a ghost are you? But there's too much iron and salt I doubt a ghost could even step within a few feet of 35."

The boy looked at Lockwood funny, "Do I look like a ghost to you?"

Lockwood nodded, about to continue his question, "Right. So then ho-" But before he could finish, the boy intercepted and said, "I believe it's my turn to ask the questions."

"What are you, exactly? I'm pretty sure a couple of twelve year-olds aren't allowed to carry swords and wave them around and point them at unsuspecting civilians."

I huffed indignantly, "Who are you calling twelve year-olds!"

George said, dusting his mouth layered with crumbs from his biscuit, "You're the one to talk. Summoning evil rapiers like you do."

Lockwood nodded, "True, I've never seen a rapier like yours and it's not from any company I've ever seen. Perhaps it's of foreign material."

The boy held up a hand as if to control a couple of dogs barking at once (Looking back, that wasn't the best of metaphors I've used). "I believe it's still my turn to ask questions."

Lockwood blinked, "Oh sorry. Well, we're a Talented bunch of Agents. Basically what we do is hunt down ghosts and destroy their Sources-" ("The essence that ties a ghost down to our world." George interjects." "-before they can wreak havoc on any of the citizens of London. We're a relatively small company, just started up a year ago, and that's all actually. You do have ghosts in America, don't you?"

The boy held a hand, covering his mouth. Almost in an attempt disguise a smile. I immediately smelled something fishy.

"What?" I growled, my hands balling into a fist. "Think there's something funny with risking your life to hunt ghosts?"

The boy waved my comment away. Now, normally I'm a pretty level-headed girl (You can tell, right?) but this kid's starting to irritate me in ways even George can't. But I don't think anyone can top how much I want to slap George's hapless face.

"It's just that battling ghosts is _so_ fourth grade." Nico said, popping what was left of his toast in his mouth.

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously. "And I suppose you've had worse experiences?"

The boy nodded, unimpressed. "Care to share a few, then?" I provoked. The boy drew back as if he suddenly told a secret he wasn't supposed to share. I took the opportunity, "Unless you're lying." I said, raising my eyebrow.

I could see his vein twitching and his expression turning sour. The nameless boy puffed his chest up and said, "Ever battled a hydra? Ever been chased by a chimera over New Mexico? Ever been to the underworld?"

Now it was our turn to cover our grins. The boy's pale face turned pink and we burst out laughing. "It's true!"

"Oh yeah! And I'm the queen of England." George said, in between breaths. Which only cracked Lockwood and I more.

The boy's ears turned redder. "It's no use convincing a couple of mortals like you." I laughed even harder. He said mortals as if you didn't expect him to be one either.

And I suppose that was the beginning. I don't really know what we started but we started something huge. I can't say because frankly, the next strange events almost scared me to death. All I know is that it had something to do with that boy. Only... with his dark unemotional eyes and his cold and pale skin, how can this wimpy looking kid be the son of the Lord of the dead?


End file.
